


like real people do

by julek



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26615611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julek/pseuds/julek
Summary: They always parted ways in Temeria. Sometimes in Velen, sometimes in Dorian, always somewhere along the Pontar, so Jaskier would easily find his way to Oxenfurt. This time, Wyzima was the last stop on their shared road.based off atumblrprompt.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 17
Kudos: 184





	like real people do

Winters at Oxenfurt were a delight.

Jaskier was always greeted with open arms, his room waiting for him as it always did, year after year, already warmed by the hearth. He was always glad to see his fellow professors, and there were always students eager to hear his stories from the Path. Mouth-watering food waited for him in the dining hall every day, accompanied by the sweet taste of Redanian wine. 

He had time to teach and compose, reaching inside his bottomless well of inspiration that seemed to be in full splendor after an eventful year on the Path, when all the monsters and sights had the chance to settle into his memories. His ballads would be full of heroics and colorful scenery—if perhaps a little embellished, for the sake of the arts. 

From time to time, his mind drifted, and he found himself wondering about Kaer Morhen, the keep where Geralt spent most of his winters. It was a topic that fascinated him to no end—where his brothers there, too? What did the Blue Mountains look like after a snowstorm? Did Geralt, perhaps, think of him too?

This year was different, though.

They had been in Wyzima, the last days of autumn sweeping across the city, covering the lake and its surroundings with dried leaves, a beautiful scenery if Jaskier had ever seen one. The people had been kind to them, offering them a comfortable room in one of the main inns, even inviting Geralt to join them on their annual Harvest festival after he’d slain the Bruxa that had been terrorizing the royal catacombs.

Much to Jaskier’s surprise, Geralt accepted. 

Out in the fields, yellow paper lanterns had been lit and glowed against the starless sky, the city painted in gentle amber light. Jaskier’s eyes softened as he took the scene in, people sharing their food with one another, children laughing, workers enjoying the fruit of their hard labor. It felt almost religious to know that even in times of war and despair, people found reasons to be happy. 

He and Geralt were invited over to share a long table with a family of farmers, who’d been more than happy to share their meal with them. They were vibrant and boisterous, and Jaskier felt almost overwhelmed by their hospitality and warmth. The presence of a witcher did nothing to dim their joy, on the contrary, the children were ecstatic to see one up close, asking all kinds of questions about his life and the monsters he’d encountered.

Jaskier fondly watched him carefully answer their questions, could see Geralt trying to leave the gruesome details out. Seeing him move around children was always a sight for sore eyes, in Jaskier’s opinion, his soft side coming out with ease, making the kids laugh with his tales. 

After their meal, people started clearing the streets to dance. Husbands and wives swayed slowly, while the younger couples shared stolen kisses under the moonlight. Jaskier watched the scene with a tilted smile, hearing the distant sound of a harp playing.

“You’re not dancing,” Geralt said, sitting closer to him.

Jaskier closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the soft autumn breeze coming through.

“I have no partner, I’m afraid,” he replied, pointing to the couples, “and I’m too comfortable to try and find one.” 

Geralt nodded, looking at a pair of young ladies dancing together, their hands intertwined. Jaskier looked up, the lanterns barely visible.

“You know,” he murmured, stretching his hand up toward the sky, “when people light these, they make a wish. Some ask for wealth, or for a good harvest. Some ask for love.”

Geralt hummed, looking up, his eyes glowing.

“It is said that when the wish comes true, the lantern goes out, having fulfilled its purpose.” Jaskier shifted in his seat, looking at his hands. “There’s so much love here tonight, I think they all went out at the same time.”

There was a round of applause for the musician, who bowed and promised to play one more song. 

“Did you light one?” Geralt asked, his voice low. 

“I did.”

“What did you wish for?” 

Jaskier smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Can’t tell you, otherwise it won’t come true.”

Geralt huffed a laugh, shaking his head. 

“I think mine will stay lit for a long time,” Jaskier offered, a small smile on his lips. “But that’s okay. I’m a patient man.” 

Geralt hummed and they settled in comfortable silence, sitting side by side. 

They always parted ways in Temeria. Sometimes in Velen, sometimes in Dorian, always somewhere along the Pontar, so Jaskier would easily find his way to Oxenfurt. This time, Wyzima was the last stop on their shared road. 

“I’ll miss you this winter,” Jaskier said softly, toying with a piece of fabric from his breeches. 

He knew Geralt didn’t like goodbyes, or any kind of display of affection, but he always let him know. Jaskier never knew when he’d see the witcher for the last time, never wanted his last words to be meaningless.

For a second, Geralt opened his mouth as if to speak, and Jaskier saw something shimmering in his golden eyes. But then, he squared his jaw, and simply nodded. 

.

Jaskier had been in Oxenfurt for four days when it began pouring down. The rain was relentless, making his hair stick to his forehead whenever he had to cross the long corridors between halls. 

At night, Jaskier hung his cloak on the rack on his room for it to dry, worn down after a day of running around between lectures. He flopped on the bed, exhausted and full from the venison he’d indulged in at dinner. 

It was strange, sleeping alone. After years of sharing days and nights with Geralt, he’d come to know the slow beating of his heart, the warmth of his body, the sound of his breathing. But Oxenfurt was spacious and had rooms to spare, so it made no sense for him to share with someone else. 

He was half asleep when he heard it. At first, he thought it was the rain, but the distinct sound of clattering glass made it clear that there was someone—or something—out in the night. 

Jaskier got up from the bed, smoothing his wrinkled doublet with one hand, and moved toward the window, the one that looked out to the inner courtyard. There was nothing to see but darkness, the rain falling down hard on the cobblestone. He was about to turn around when he saw them, ambers glowing in the dark.

Confused, he opened the door, only to find Geralt standing on the courtyard, absolutely drenched. 

“Geralt?” he called out, his voice barely audible against the raging storm. He moved toward him, not caring about his doublet getting ruined. “What—did something happen?”

Geralt stepped forward, and Jaskier could see him better. He was still in his armor, but he didn’t seem injured. There was a look on his face Jaskier couldn’t decipher.

“Jaskier.” he said, his voice rough. 

“Yes?” Jaskier prompted, his heart beating fast with worry. He gently touched Geralt’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Gods, Geralt, you’re freezing cold. Come inside.”

He grabbed his arm and started to turn around when Geralt tugged his wrist back. 

“No, I—No need. I just came to tell you… in Wyzima.”

“Wyzima, yes?”

“You said you’d miss me,” Geralt said softly, his hair plastered to his forehead. “I didn’t get to tell you the same. That I’d miss you, too.”

Jaskier looked at him, incredulous. 

“I will. Miss you, I mean,” he continued. “I will go now, Kaer Morhen is a long way.”

He put his hood up and started to walk away, but Jaskier was fast to catch his wrist, facing him.

“You—you came all this way to tell me that and then _leave_?” he spluttered, and realized how close they were standing. “That is ridiculous. You’re ridiculous!”

Geralt’s eyes flashed with hurt, and Jaskier moved closer. “In a good way,” he added.

“I just figured you’d want to know,” Geralt said, his voice small.

Jaskier laughed, taking Geralt’s hand in his. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I just can’t take you seriously when you look like a drowned rat. Come here.”

They hurried to the threshold of Jaskier’s room, water pooling at their feet. The whole scene was absurd, and Jaskier couldn’t contain his laughter. 

“Of course I’d want to know, you foolish man,” he said, and Geralt’s lips twitched. “It’s nice. Unexpected, for sure, but nice. I still can’t believe you’re here.”

Geralt pulled his hood down, and moved closer to Jaskier, taking his left hand between his. 

“I always miss you when you’re gone,” he confessed, looking at their joined hands, almost embarrassed.

Jaskier could feel warmth splaying across his chest, and he took a step forward, taking Geralt’s chin in his hand.

“The sky’s dark.” 

Geralt frowned, confused by the non-sequitur. 

“The sky’s dark,” Jaskier repeated, “because my lantern went out.” 

Looking up at him, Jaskier saw the glint of recognition in Geralt’s eyes. Rubbing his thumb across Jaskier’s hand, he leaned forward, gently pressing their foreheads together. 

“Your wish came true?” he whispered.

“It did.” 

Geralt smiled, relieved, and pressed his lips against Jaskier’s mouth. He kissed him back eagerly, tasting slightly of rain, and smiled into the kiss. Geralt’s hands found their way to the bard’s waist, squeezing lightly. 

After a moment, Jaskier pulled apart, huffing a laugh against Geralt’s lips. 

“We’re ridiculous.”

Geralt simply hummed, kissing him again, and again, and again.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading <3
> 
> find me on [tumblr](https://julek.tumblr.com/)!


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